


좋아 - The 1st Album

by camboymark (Somethingorwhatever)



Category: SHINee
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, She Is | Album, and a birthday project, idk - Freeform, inspired by an album if that wasn't clear lol, its mostly an album exploration, kind of, please read this, shinee members do not appear by name lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-12-30 02:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somethingorwhatever/pseuds/camboymark
Summary: oh she is // but who is she?





	1. 좋아 (She is)

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea to write vignettes inspired by the lyrics to each song on the she is album and then i realized that i could also use this as a short of birthday project, so here everything is i guess. 
> 
> please read the lyrics to each song before reading as each story follows the lyrics (to the best of my ability) instead of the feel of the music. 
> 
> thank you for reading as always xx

 

 

 

 

as all things are and as all things will be, their first meeting was by chance. an random event planned by their friends with help from the stars. 

 

    it was late and he was restless, so he decided to visit a beloved haunt of his, remembering that a friend would be there. yet when he arrived, he saw that it was not just one friend but two and someone he had seen before, but had never met. her back was to him, hands flying as she spoke. his friend with sharp eyes and even shaper tongue found him over her shoulder. grin wide and forked tongue ready, they said, “speak of the devil.” 

         “oh my goodness! don’t say that!” she replied. the three of them erupted into laughter and he frowned as he approached, wanting in on the joke. when he reached them, his friend smiled slyly and said, “no really jonghyun-ah, out of all of us, you’re her favorite.” 

    she finally sees him then. he finally looks at her. and for a moment, a very long moment, they just look at one another. he takes in smooth skin and long hair. dark eyes set wide with disbelief, eyebrows raised high to match. her reaction…it’s curious. 

    a pin drops, the moment ends, and low chatter fills the space between them. 

         “is that true?” 

         “of course.” 

     it’s a funny answer. it makes him blush, smile, and laugh. he holds out a hand and she smiles, wide eyes disappearing.

          “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

         “the honor is all mine.” 

    as they dine, she slowly opens back up. as she recounts anecdotes and memories, she peeks at him shyly. when they laugh, she covers her mouth as if her hands could stop the boisterous sound from coming out. when they drink, she turns away almost entirely, slender fingers clutching the glass like a lifeline. and this is partly his fault because he watches her with utmost attention; smiling when nerves knit her eyebrows together, blushing when she looks his way, only to glance away, startled. running his eyes over her nose, riding her curved cupids bow, climbing up her high cheeks only to fall off of her eyelashes only to get caught in her bright aura. he knows he should stop but he can’t help it for she’s interesting, she’s unexpected, for she is…she is…just so lovely.   

 


	2. White T Shirt

 

 

 

the stars decided that he would know her. that he would hear a sigh or see a flip of hair or catch the echo of a single solitary footstep and know it was her. they decided that he would sit in the upper room of an upper room of a secluded restaurant and stare at the masses until her silhouette appeared. 

 

     it was a game they played, him and his friends. Who Could Spot Her First. he always won. they called him lucky. he called it a gift. he would always know her. he would always see her. 

    even now, in the midst of the thick evening crowd, he could see her. she stood at the intersection, curling a lock of hair around a finger while the rest blew in the breeze. while everyone was dressed to enjoy the nightlife, she was a dream in sandals, jeans, and white shirt knotted at the waist. 

          “can anyone see her?” a friend asks.

          “i can’t find her!” 

     he smiles to himself as everyone descends into madness. she stops in the middle of the crosswalk, sun outlining her body like a halo, eyes growings smaller as they scan the various windows. 

    their eyes lock. she waves. and he laughs, saying, “found her.” 

    when she arrives, she sees him first just as he sees her first. she smiles like before, slow and sweet. someone says, “jonghyun always finds you first, did you know that?” 

    it makes her laugh, knot bobbing around the curve of her waist. he gets an eyeful of a toned stomach and smooth skin. he follows the seam of her jeans over a hip and down to a tear across her knee. her toes peek out of her shoes. a gold bracelet slides down one wrist while a necklace disappears below her shirt. their eyes meet once more. her smile widens. the knot presses into his side as she hugs him, humming a nonsensical tune. 

          “i’ll always find you too,” she says. and he almost laughs, almost kisses her, almost does something with the glee freely coursing through his veins. it turns out that she knows him just as well as he knows her.


	3. 우주가 있어 (Orbit)

 

 

 

he catches her eye from across the room once more. she hides a smile, something mischievous winking out at him in the lights. he knows it’s fruitless to try and talk with her tonight, so he doesn’t. he joins the masses of eager suitors that circle her on nights like these. he watches her from afar as she charms her way through the room, smiling and laughing her way to the top. he thinks he should stop looking at her, but he can’t. he thinks she should make time for him, but he doesn’t mind. as long as she catches his eye and smiles that little smile just for him, he’ll be alright. as long as she pushes through the circling horde just to say “take me home?” to him and only him at the end of the night, he’ll be alright.

 

    so when she’s finally had enough, he takes her hand and leads her away, ignoring how her cool touch makes his ears burn red. in the car he asks if she had a nice time, his jealousy getting the better of him. she looks at him, eyes saying something he doesn’t quite understand, and laughs.

          “i guess,” she says, “i’m just tired. everyone was so boring.”

    the answer brings him more joy than it should, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to hear it again, from wanting to read in between the lines. so as he watches her skip up the stairs to her door, he says, “did you have fun talking with everyone tonight?”

    she turns around at this and looks at him for a long moment. then says, “why? are you jealous?” she smiles something he can’t describe, “do you like me or something?”

    and he wants to lie, to blow off her question, to ask if she’s joking, but he just can’t. his heart is pounding too painfully, his throat is too tight, the stars in her eyes are too close to dying out.

          “yes. i like you.”

    she takes a step closer to him. he only stares at her feel, silver sparkles winking at him mockingly. “so now what? are you going to tell me not to talk to other people? to only look at you?”

    he shakes his head, swallows against a dry throat. “it hurts when you do, but who am i to ask that of you?”

    her feet move closer until they stop in front of him. he can’t breathe. he watches her hands curl into fists. he listens to her take in a careful breath of air.

          “look at me.”

     and he could never refuse her so his eyes move slowly up over black satin, the curve of her neckline, the dainty silver clasped around her throat until they meet red rimmed eyes. her mouth trembles. he wonders why. he wishes to soothe it.

          “do you really like me?”

          “yes,” he breathes, taking her hands in his, trying to pour out every feelings he has for her through a single touch, “with everything i have, yes, i like you.”

     she merely blinks at his confession. a tear slips from her eyes. then, she presses her lips to him and his universe shatters.

    they kiss for longer than they should under the moonlight. they should have been caught. they should’ve stopped of their own accord. yet, they are never interrupted as they cross into a new world, holding onto one another tightly.

          “it’s always been you,” she whispers as she finally pulls away. he cups her face and presses his lips to the tear stain on her cheek. he presses their foreheads together and lets himself finally get lost in the space of her eyes.

          “it will always be you.”


	4. Moon

 

 

 

sometimes, their strings get tangled; they get tied together, looping around again and until they become a knot. it’s a careful dance of limbs and sheets and stretched out fingers that cling to shirts and run through hair. it’s to the point where he can no longer tell where she ends and he begins. 

 

    it excites him. it makes his blood run hot; his heart races, his grip around her always wavering between slack and tight, between impulses to slide under or pull closer. 

          “i love you,” she whispers between fitful sessions of dreaming and loving, “so much.”

          “how much?”

          “as high as i can go.”

          “to the moon?” he asks. his chest feels tighten as she nods sleepily; his breath is caught in his chest, heart beating in his throat. she stretches against him languidly, lips pressing to his neck and then his cheek, lids closed and begging to be kissed.

          “to the moon, my love, and back.” 


	5. Aurora

 

 

the lights are low and he’s quiet as he sneaks into the room, pressing himself into the corner. he isn’t supposed to be there, he isn’t supposed to be seeing her at all. they’re a new couple and rumors are already flying around. but he misses her. so he sneaks away and follows his heart all the way to her. 

 

    he watches eagerly as she moves across the room with precision, body covered in sheer stretches of fabric colored the deepest red, long ribbons trailing behind her like webs. the room is warm with her exertion, the music pulsates around him, and the flashing lights of the city grow further away with each moment. he can only see her; the way her body moves, delicate arms and legs elegantly stretching out before her; hair flipping, muscles sliding, small breaths slipping from parted lips as she spins and leaps. she is so captivating and he is so enthralled. 

     when the music ends, the vibrations lingering in the air, she turns to him suddenly, her eyes wide and unbelieving. he approaches her then, wanting to speak, to touch, to do something but  is too fearful of her light lest his actions mar it. he just stands, palms up and eyes cast down, unwonted and unworthy. how does one worship a beauty such as she?

     a careful hand places itself upon his cheek. he leans into the touch, lids falling shut. then it is a whisper of lips on his followed by flitting fingertips down his chest. he opens his eyes at this, everything dark but her as he succumbs to her glamour, as she consumes him entirely, stealing his sight, his breath—his  _ everything _ . and with that, he lets the noisiness of his world fade out as he falls into her. it feels like he is floating into a place of no return. he welcomes it greatly.


	6. Dress Up

 

the gilded teeth of her zipper tease him, winking in the light as she moves and begging to be closed. it’s the only thing fully undone, a stark difference to her halved state—a state that is only able to happen due to her indecisiveness. these shoes? this hair? this eyeshadow? she can’t decide. she wants to decide. she just wants to look nice. but if she’s worried about that, she shouldn’t be. she’s got this gift where everything looks good on her. 

 

    she catches him staring in the mirror. he doesn’t try to hide the approval in his eyes. it makes her blush, shoulders curving inwards as a pretty red moves over her body. it looks out of place, unwonted against short, tight, black, and sheer. he lets his eyes trace down the line of her back. he wants to reach out and touch, feel the way it bows inward under his hand. instead, he leans over and hooks a finger under a band, pulling and relishing in the sound of elastic meeting skin. she gives him a look, pretty lips forming a smile that he’s never seen before. 

          “do we have to go out tonight?”

     the question makes him want to laugh. she’s usually the one tugging on his arm, dragging him to the nearest party, always wanting to dress up and dance. 

          “we have to since you’re all dressed up so nicely like this,” he pulls her from her seat at the mirror and into his arms. he smoothes a hand over the exposed, soft skin of her back. she leans into him, places a hand on his shoulder, and they begin to sway in the soft lights of the vanity. 

          “you look beautiful, all eyes will be on you.”

    she laughs then and cups his face, glossy outline being left behind as she kisses his cheek.

          “no. all eyes will be on us.”


	7. Cocktail

 

 

he’s never said them, the three little words, the ones that can take couples a matter of one hour or several years to say. she says it all the time—half asleep, in the shower, tipsysober, on the way out of the door often accompanied by a kiss. 

 

    it’s always been implied for him in the way he embeds her name into the backtracks of his songs, the way he’ll try to make her lunch but it comes out terrible, the way he’s dedicated his entire self to her, mindbodysoul. she knows how he feels. she has to. 

    yet, as he welcomes her home after two weeks of being away, the words circle in his head; rest on the tip of his tongue, wanting to jump free of his mouth; beat in time with his heart. he has to say them, he needs to say them as he kisses poisoned gloss from her lips and lets himself suffocate on her scent. the feel of her hair, the look in her eyes, the way her voice sighs out his name, the bunching up of her shirt and the way it presses into his stomach—all the bits and pieces that make up her cram into his head until he can no longer think, no longer hear.

          “i’m sorry,” he breathes, tracing a path from her ear to her collarbone, drinking in perfume and sweat. love and desire and adoration thrum right above his ears. fingers trace through his hair. a distant remnant of her laugh echoes in his head. her smile, the one that belongs to him, flashes beneath his eyes. his shirt moves up. nails press lightning into his spine, the world slides sideways and he stumbles into the wall. 

          “i love you,” he strains, head tilted up, begging for slick lips to be pressed to his, begging for another drink of her, “so so much.”

    his hand moves up her back as he bucks against her, trying not to press fingertip shaped bruises into her sides but failing miserably. she cups his face, breathes life into him. “how much?”

    the years they’ve spent together spread out behind his eyes. he’s wasted so much time, how did he waste so much time? his chest is tight, he can’t breathe, he can’t hear, all he knows it her. 

          “as high as i can go,” he says as he loses himself in her body. he can’t even remember his own name at this point.

          “to the moon?”

          “yes,” he breathes as the edges of his vision slowly turn black, as every sense slowly get replaced with her, “yes yes yes.”


	8. RED

 

 

she sits angled away from him. his hands grip onto the steering wheel until it squeaks. they argued. she fell silent. he didn’t press the matter. he instead focuses on the headlights in front of him and how they grow smaller as the car speeds across the intersection. the stoplight flashes from yellow to red and he slows to a stop. they’re going to be in for a long wait.

 

    the silence is suffocating. he glances at her, missing her voice, her face, her smile. he take in legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap, face turned away. he wants to place a hand on her thigh or tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. he wants her to look at him. why won’t she look at him?

    he opens his mouth. nothing comes out. he lifts a hand. it doesn’t go anywhere. he wants to speak but she always manages to render him speechless, even now as she acts so cold.

    he tries again at the next red light. 

    he fails.

    she finally unthaws after two more, hands loosening, head looking straight ahead instead of away, legs uncrossing. it soon becomes a dangerous game for him after that. she’s beautiful, but even more so when she has melted, full of passion that simmers just under the skin. 

    at the fifth light, she finally speaks. it’s quiet, carefully controlled, but it still manages to shock him for they are words he never thought he’d hear.

          “i’m tired of hiding.” 

he smiles after a moment, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest. he takes her hand, heat beginning to run just under skin. her eyes are soft, earnest. he’s never loved her more than in this moment. 

          “then kiss me,” he says and she smiles, “and we won’t have to anymore.” 

    so she does and the the world around them fades away. a light flashes outsides; it’s not green or yellow or red, but he doesn’t care. not when he’s got the entire sun in his arms, holding him close, loving him so.


	9. Suit Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, my love. you've done well.

 

it happened when she whisked him away for a weekend. she took him down to the countryside, citing the vast meadows and fresh air as effective tools in combating writers’ block. she had smiled at him then, the sun setting and turning her eyes into starry comets. the box in his pocket had started burning a hole right at that moment.

 

    the only thing he knew about their weekend getaway was that they were supposed to go on a picnic. what he wasn’t expecting was her face at dawn as the birds started to wake the world. she roused him from his sleep with a song and gentle caresses alone his face, shoulders, hair. it was the song he had been trying to write for a few days now. it sounded like heaven coming from her lip. he reached up, half dreaming, to trace an odd shape on her cheek. she smiled and pressed a kiss to his hand. 

          “it’s time for our picnic, my love.” 

    he felt tethered to the little box and the string started to smoke. 

    when she led him to the center of a meadow, blanket already spread out with a basket beside it, the box started to catch fire. he could hardly contain himself. the sky was purple, she was so beautiful, and his heart truly belonged to her.

          “how does watching the sunrise sound? the sun isn't as harsh.” 

          “i have something to say first." the words burst from his mouth. he's almost embarrassed, but she just  laughs and smiles and nods, “alright.”

    he pulls the box from his pocket. it feels like lava in his hands and he half expects to see it when he opens it, but it’s still the same five diamond earrings arranged in a circle—pristine, just like the day he bought them. he doesn’t dare look at her, he’s too scared to. instead, he focuses on how the diamonds catch the light and how her hands still in her lap. he takes a breath. then he asks. 

          “i’ve been in love with you for a while now,” he glances at her, hopeful and helpless. her own eyes are wide with shock, “and i know we’ve only talked about it in passing, but will you do me the honor of marrying me?” 

    she takes the box, traces a pretty fingertip over the earrings, and says the words that breathe life into him.

          “yes,” she says, eyes rimmed with unshed tears, “yes yes yes.” 

 

    they get married a week and a half later. they fly their friends and family to an island in the pacific. they exchange vows on a cliff as the sun sets, waves crashing below them. she’s a dream in a dress her grandmother made and her mother’s veil. he’s in the first gift she ever bought for him—a black bowtie. 

    the earrings shine in her ear just like the rings they picked out together. 

    the fabric of her dress floats around her as they have their first dance, toes squishing in the sand, ocean kissing their heels. 

    when she leads him through sandy dunes to their suite, her veil floats behind her with the evening breeze. when they reach the room, she turns to him, wide smile on her face. she cups his cheeks gently, the metal of her ring cool against his skin. his hands find her ribs, feel them flutter, and move down to her waist, holding on tight.

          “you’re finally mine,” she breathes. the words send happiness blooming across his skin. he’s never felt so much love for someone, he didn't think it was possible to feel this much love for someone. he's never been more thankful for it. 

          “i’m finally yours,” he says as he kisses her over and over again. 

    the lace of her dress disappears under his fingers. the bowtie, gone. piece by piece, bit by bit, discarded until it is just rings, clasped together in the soft light of the moon as they finally become husband and wife.


End file.
